


Beginnings

by thatyellowbird



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatyellowbird/pseuds/thatyellowbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop looking at me.”</p><p>“I’m - I’m not looking at you.”</p><p>“Uh, yes, you are.” Stiles glances up from his assignment, which is spread out messily all over his bed, except for the space that Derek is currently taking up. “And it’s distracting, so stop it.”</p><p>“I can’t stop,” Derek grits out, giving Stiles what he probably thinks is a threatening look. It kinda makes Stiles want to pinch his cheeks. “because I’m not <em>doing anything</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

“Stop looking at me.”

“I’m - I’m not looking at you.”

“Uh, yes, you are.” Stiles glances up from his assignment, which is spread out messily all over his bed, except for the space that Derek is currently taking up. “And it’s distracting, so stop it.”

“I can’t stop,” Derek grits out, giving Stiles what he probably thinks is a threatening look. It kinda makes Stiles want to pinch his cheeks. “because I’m not _doing anything_.”

Stiles snorts. “Whatever, dude.”

“Just… do your homework.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles does, but he only manages to write half of a paragraph before he feels Derek‘s eyes on him again.

He tries to ignore it, tries to focus on the paper in front of him, because that is what is important right now. The paper. Not Derek being a weirdo, who apparently still thinks it’s okay to creepily stare at people when he thinks they don’t know he’s doing it, but they know. They _so_ know. 

Stiles lasts about forty-eight seconds before he decides that enough is enough, and so he drops his pen and snatches the book Derek‘s been pretending to read out of his hands. 

“I was reading that.”

“No, you weren’t.“ Stiles rolls his eyes, holding the book out of reach when Derek tries to make a grab for it. “And you haven’t, because you’ve been staring at me and you need to stop.”

“I haven’t-”

“Yes, you have!” Stiles hisses, throwing his hands up in exasperation, before pointing a finger at Derek, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you planning to kill me, or something?”

“Why would I-”

“Or, like, trying to read my mind?“

“I’m a werewolf, Stiles, not a-”

“Because I think I read something about that on a forum once." Stiles hums, nodding to himself. "About a mind-reading, people-eating werewolf-dude.”

“You really need to stop trusting everything you read on the internet.”

“Well, why were you staring at me, then?”

Derek groans in frustration. “I wasn’t-”

“Like, seriously, do I have something on my face, or -”

“Your face is perfect.” 

Stiles stops and stares at Derek, and Derek stares back, and for a minute or two there’s just a lot of staring going on, because seriously.

“…What?” 

“What?”

“Wha-” Stiles shakes his head, papers and books all forgotten. “No, you can’t say ‘what’, I’m the _what_ -ee here, and -”

“That’s not even a word.”

“- _and_.” Stiles continues, undeterred as he reaches out to flick Derek’s big toe, because seriously, so not important right now. “You just said that my face is perfect.”

“No, I-” Derek looks around, like the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of Stiles’ room is going to save him from having to answer the question, but alas. “I didn’t?”

“Yes, you did!”

“Well,” Derek swallows, and he’s still not looking at Stiles. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Stiles inhales deeply, trying to get his heart to beat somewhat evenly again. “What did you mean to say, then?”

“Not that.” 

“Because… you don‘t?”

“Exactly!” Derek nods vigorously, and he is looking so relieved that Stiles suddenly feels like crying. “That’s - yes.”

“Right.” 

“I mean, it‘s not _not_ perfect - because, obviously, objectively speaking you’re - but that’s not - I can‘t -”

“Derek.” Stiles interrupts, because seriously, this is getting painful in so many ways. “It’s fine, okay. I get it.”

“Stiles-”

“Let’s- let’s just go back to studying, alright.”

Derek looks like he wants to say something more, but then he leans over and picks his book back up and continues to (pretend to) read where he left of. Stiles nods once and then turns his attention back to his books and his paper, because that is what’s important. Not misreading situations and the fact that he let himself, for just one second, believe that maybe, just maybe...

But it‘s useless, and trying to study is proven to be useless as well, because an hour later the paper is still not anywhere near being done, and Derek - well, Derek isn’t even pretending to read anymore, he’s just sitting there with a book in front of his face and he’s not turning any pages and he’s not saying anything and it’s _awkward_.

“This is awkward.”

“I should go.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything else, he just watches Derek as he climbs out of Stiles’ bed and shuffles the few short steps towards the door, book in hand; he watches as Derek lays his right hand on the door handle, the line of his back slightly tense in a way it hasn’t been in a long while. He waits for Derek to open the door, his heart aching just the tiniest bit, but he doesn’t.

Instead, Derek lets his hand fall, and he turns around, sighing.

“I lied.”

“You lied?”

“I lied.” Derek clears his throat, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet before letting his eyes settle on Stiles. “About your face.”

“You lied about my face.” Stiles nods, not really processing anything right now because five seconds ago Derek was about to leave and Stiles was about to start wallowing in his own misery, but now suddenly Derek is standing in his doorway and he’s blushing -which, by the way, makes him look really cute, and it is all completely unfair- and the world is tilting slightly on its axis. “Cool. _Cool_. What does that mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what does that mean‘?” Derek looks confused, eyebrows drawing together slightly. “It means that I lied.”

“About my face.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Cool. That’s-”

“Cool?”

“Hah, yeah.” Stiles rubs his neck, smiling nervously up at Derek. “I, um, just to be clear here - you like my face?”

“Stiles.”

“Just… answer the question, please?”

Derek stays quiet for a moment, eyeing Stiles carefully before pushing away from the doorway and taking a tiny step forward, moving into Stiles space and settling down on besides him on the bed. His left hand twitches by his side, and then he’s reaching out, letting it rest softly on Stiles’ knee for a second, squeezing it lightly. He waits for Stiles to look up before he speaks.

“Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“I like your face.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Derek nods, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards and if Stiles were standing up, he‘d probably get week in the knees. Good thing he’s not, then. "Even though it's annoying as hell.”

Stiles lets out an indignant sound, reaching out with his free hand to smack Derek on his shoulder, but Derek catches it, twisting their hands until their fingers lace together and, okay. _Okay_. No need to panic or anything, but they’re totally, definitely holding hands right now. Which is kind of weird, but also really nice. Mostly nice, Stiles decides, so he twines their fingers together a little tighter and hopes that his palms aren‘t too sweaty. Whatever.

“ _Hey_ , it's not annoying.”

“No?” Derek raises an eyebrow, grinning.

“Nope.” Stiles says, popping the p, before leaning in just a little bit closer. "I've heard from pretty reliable sources that it is, in fact, kinda perfect.

Derek's face softens then. "Yeah, it is."

Stiles swallows, feeling a little - no, actually, scratch that; he’s feeling very overwhelmed, because this is - this is _everything_.

This is Stiles finally getting what he never, ever thought he could have. This is Derek sitting next to him, smiling down at where their thighs are pressed together and their fingers are entwined, looking like there's nowhere he'd rather be. Stiles can literally hear his heart rushing in his ears, it's beating so loudly, and he might not have supernatural powers, but he's pretty sure he can hear Derek's, too. It's pretty amazing, really.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Mm?”

Derek looks up then and Stiles can't stop himself from closing that tiny gap between them, their noses barely brushing together as he whispers. “I like your face, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in months. It's short, un-beta'd, and definitely needs some polishing. Why am I posting it then? Because, I need to get over myself, basically.
> 
> As always; please, be kind.


End file.
